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Updated: July 1, 2025
If it was of the fashion that opens in the middle, each individual gate had its particular "kink," which must be learned by the uninitiated before he or, what is worse, she could pass.
The last time it happened, to the heat was added the excitement of a police launch stopping our little pleasure craft and demanding our names and business. Mental or physical I could not say. I wished I knew for it subtracted the joy from the day as surely as dampness takes the kink out of unnatural curls. When I mentioned the incident to Jane, she only looked wise and smiled.
A nipple of gas-pipe, with a cap on either end, one drilled through for the insertion of the fuse, described it completely. The kink in the fuse where the rain had found entrance to dampen the powder, was plainly to be seen. Garrison placed the contrivance in his pocket. He pulled out his watch. The hour, to his amazement, was nearly ten.
There were schools advocating heatedly the merits respectively of the single or double cinch, of the Dutch oven or the reflector, of rawhide or canvas kyacks, of sleeping bags or blankets. Each man had invented some little kink of his own without which he could not possibly exist.
"Dorgan ain't swallerin' your yarn about Randerson puttin' a kink in Kelso," he said to Blair. Randerson turned, a mild grin on his face. "You fellows quit your soft-soapin' about that run-in with Kelso," he said. "There ain't any compliments due me. I was pretty lucky to get out of that scrape with a whole hide. They told me Kelso's gun got snagged when he was tryin' to draw it."
"I believe you're Avories." "That's so," said Kink. "Well, I'm blessed!" the farmer cried. "And to think we should be falling out when I've been waiting to see you these many days! My name's Pescod. My halfsister's your cook." Mr. Pescod climbed out of his cart and shook hands with all the children.
Still they came from below, boat after boat, in endless procession. The uneasiness of Bill and Kink increased. They stole speculative, tentative glances at each other, and when their eyes met looked away in embarrassment. Finally, however, their eyes met and neither looked away.
"Well, so-long and good luck! And don't forget to blaze a stake or two for me!" They nodded their heads vigorously and felt sorry for the poor wretch who remained perforce behind. Kink and Bill were sweating hard. According to the revised Northland Scripture, the stampede is to the swift, the blazing of stakes to the strong, and the Crown in royalties, gathers to itself the fulness thereof.
To this day, then, that sudden kink in the straight line across the upper pasture remains a mystery to Sophie and George. Nor can they tell why Skim Winsh, who came to his cottage under Dutton Shaw most musically drunk at 10.45 P.M of every Saturday night, as his father had done before him, sang no more at the bottom of the garden steps, where Sophie always feared he would break his neck.
Browne, whose face was once more wrinkling with mirth, poured out for himself a glass of whisky while Freddy Malins exploded, before he had well reached the climax of his story, in a kink of high-pitched bronchitic laughter and, setting down his untasted and overflowing glass, began to rub the knuckles of his left fist backwards and forwards into his left eye, repeating words of his last phrase as well as his fit of laughter would allow him.
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